Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  Farzad smiled. “But that’s not a problem because she knows where the money is, don’t you, Amy?”

  Yeah, she knew where Carlos had stashed the money, and that information had to keep her alive until she reached Riley.

  She pressed her hand against the pocket where she’d slipped the key and nodded slowly, holding Farzad’s dark gaze. “I know where the money is, but you need me to get it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Riley parked his car around the corner from the U-Store storage facility and slipped in the front gate. Carlos had chosen a completely low-tech facility—no gate requiring a code to get in, no security guard on duty, no cameras. Perfect.

  Back row. Carlos hadn’t given Amy the number of the unit, but he’d told her he’d rented one in the back row.

  Riley had broken out in a cold sweat when he’d lost contact with Amy, but at least Carlos had given her the location of the money before the mic went dead. No way Carlos could’ve discovered the small listening device tucked in Amy’s clothing. It must’ve fallen out.

  He ducked behind a large unit and scanned the ten battered units lined up along the back row. He’d wait until Carlos and Amy arrived, and then he’d plan his attack. He’d take down Carlos, rescue Amy and secure the money, interrupting the terrorists’ scheme and whatever plans they had for Jack.

  His muscles taut, he crouched against the storage unit, the cold from the metal seeping into his shoulders. He’d promised Amy some kind of life together after this mission. Could he deliver? April had begged him to give up his life of danger. He knew Amy never would. They suited each other. He’d felt it from the moment she’d swum up next to him to rescue two divers from the rough sea.

  She’d been with him every step of the way on this perilous journey. She’d led him to the client’s money, and they’d come to the end of the line together. If she could do all that for him, he could deliver on his promise of a happily-ever-after.

  He glanced at his watch with a furrowed brow and flare of fear in his belly. Before the mic went out, it sounded as if Carlos had been on the verge of leaving. Why the delay? They must have retrieved Amy’s suitcase from her car.

  He massaged the back of his neck, his fingers digging into his flesh at the sound of a car engine. He pushed up to his feet and flattened his body against the corrugated metal of the unit.

  The car stopped out of his line of vision, and he heard the doors open and then slam shut. More than two car doors? He yanked his gun out of its holster and gripped it with two hands.

  He caught his breath and then ground his teeth together. Two men bracketed Amy, one holding a gun to her back—and neither one of them was Carlos.

  He recognized the one with the gun as the so-called reporter at the Federal prison. He studied the other man and cursed under his breath. Ian’s instincts had been correct. Farouk, the man they’d played cat and mouse with in the Middle East, was here in the flesh.

  Someone must have ratted out Carlos. Maybe the Velasquez gang did it to save their own hides. Maybe Ethan had given him up before they slit his throat.

  The trio started at the far end of the row, and Riley strained to hear them. Amy drew her hand out of her pocket and held up an object to the two men—the key Carlos had hidden in her locket.

  Riley’s throat closed and his nostrils flared. They’d kill Amy as soon as they got the money. He took aim at the head of Farouk, and then lowered his weapon once he realized Amy still had a gun shoved into her back. As much as he wanted to take down Farouk, if he shot now they’d kill her sooner rather than later.

  He held his breath as Amy inserted the key into the lock of the first unit. The little group turned and shuffled toward the next unit, and Riley exhaled. Carlos had never told her which unit housed the money. They’d have to try every unit, and they wouldn’t kill Amy until they had the money in their hands—just in case she was playing them.

  He whispered to himself, “Keep coming this way. Keep coming this way.”

  They tried the second lock with no luck and then skipped the next unit as it had a combination lock on it. A bead of sweat rolled down Riley’s face as he watched them approach the fourth unit.

  They had come within earshot, but the three of them didn’t have much to say to each other. In the quiet atmosphere, Riley’s rasping breath sounded like a jet engine to his ears. They moved onto the next unit and Amy repeated the procedure. Only this time, she yelped and jumped back.

  The padlock on the storage unit hung open, and Farouk and his cohort exchanged a quick glance. Riley’s grip on his gun tightened as Farouk shoved Amy away from the entrance. He lifted the lock and swung open the door.

  Raising his gun, Riley aimed at the man holding Amy. If he could just get her to step away from the target or drop to the ground Riley had the shot. Riley had to act quickly while Farouk was focused on the money and before he pulled out his weapon.

  Farouk ducked his head into the storage unit, and adrenaline pumped through Riley’s veins. He shouted, “Amy, get down.”

  Amy dropped to the ground as if she’d been expecting the command, and Riley squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the man in the shoulder and he spun around with the force, dropping his weapon.

  Riley charged forward while Amy kicked the gun out of the way and flung out her arms to grab the edge of the door and swing it shut. As she struggled to her knees, Farouk grabbed her around the neck, pulling her up and dragging her against his chest.

  Riley loomed over the bleeding man losing consciousness on the ground and swung his weapon toward Amy’s captor. The blood in his veins turned to ice when he saw the knife at her throat.

  “Looks like we have a stand-off, Hammond.” Farouk grinned. “I wondered if one of the Prospero team was involved. I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you again, but my money’s here, so if you let me leave peacefully, I’ll let you have Amy.”

  Amy’s eyes widened at the use of Riley’s name.

  “What if I told you reinforcements were on the way, Farouk?”

  The man shrugged, skepticism etched on his face. “Then I’d kill Amy, and nobody would be happy.”

  Riley’s hand clenched and he slid his gaze to Amy’s white face. If Farouk killed Amy, it would be the last act of violence in his sorry life. “What are you going to buy with that money?”

  Farouk stepped in front of the duffel bags on the floor of the unit as if to protect them. “What’s your interest? I thought you just wanted to rescue the girl. You always want to rescue the girl.”

  He did want to rescue Amy and he wanted to rescue Jack. Could he do both? Stepping back, he massaged his temple.

  “Don’t let him get away with the money, Riley.” The knife gleamed at Amy’s neck, and her jaw tightened with resolve. Did she really believe he’d sacrifice her to stop a terrorist’s plans, even if those plans involved Jack?

  Riley released a measured breath. “What do you know about Jack Coburn?”

  Farouk’s eyes flickered but he shrugged a shoulder. “Only that he got the better of me too many times.”

  The blood roared in Riley’s ears. He knew something. “He’s a hostage negotiator now. He went to Afghanistan to secure the release of a captive. We don’t know much more than that.”

  “And I know even less. I thought you were retired. What are you doing back on the job?” When his question met a stony silence from Riley, Farouk continued. “You should understand I know only a part of the plan. My job is to secure this money from the drug deal.”

  Riley had nothing to use as a bargaining chip but the gun in his hand. He’d get nothing from Farouk. With his muscles taut, he stepped around the unconscious man on the ground and gestured with his gun. “Take the money and leave Amy.”

  “No.” Amy’s word sliced through the air. “Don’t let him take the money, Riley.”

  Farouk clicked his tongue. “Brave words from the daughter and the sister of criminals. I’ll leave her to you once you load up the bags in the car, Hammond. Sorry
I can’t help you. I’m otherwise engaged.”

  He brought the knife closer to Amy’s throat as he stepped out of the storage unit. She stumbled over the edge, and he cinched his arm around her waist. He backed up to his car and popped the trunk. “Drop your gun and get the money.”

  Riley’s hand steadied and he narrowed his eyes.

  “You make one more move with that weapon, and I’ll slide this knife right across her throat. You can trust me, Hammond.”

  Amy gasped as Riley chucked his gun near the other man’s weapon on the ground. He clambered into the unit. The warm, dry air closed around him as he hoisted the two duffel bags. Emerging into the dim light of dusk, he swallowed hard as he glanced at Farouk, his arm wrapped around Amy’s body, and his knife still poised at her throat.

  “Put the bags in the trunk.”

  Riley heaved the bags into the trunk and slammed the lid. “Now what?”

  “Now Amy accompanies me in the car just for a short distance, and then I’ll release her. She doesn’t have to worry about us ever again. You, however… Well, I’m sure we’ll meet at some point in the future.”

  A muscle ticked wildly in Riley’s jaw. His gaze darted toward the two guns lying uselessly on the ground.

  Amy gave a strangled cry as Farouk shoved her into the driver’s side of the car, the knife at her back. Riley shuffled closer to his gun as he watched Amy climb over to the passenger seat. Farouk started his engine and the car lurched forward.

  Riley hunched over and ran toward his gun and grabbed both weapons. He looked up in time to see the passenger door fly open and Amy tumble from the car, which never stopped. Riley scrambled for his weapon, rolled onto his stomach and took a shot at the speeding car. He got off another shot as the car careened around a corner, leaving nothing but dust in its wake.

  Riley turned his attention to Amy, struggling to her knees and sobbing. He jumped to his feet and ran toward her, his heart thumping with every step.

  He caught her in his arms, pulling her up and crushing her to his chest. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  She dug her nails into his shoulders as she held on. “I’m fine. I just scraped my arm when I jumped from the moving car.”

  He ran his hand along her arm, brushing bits of dirt and gravel from her soft skin, marred with several red scratches. Now she had two injured arms. “Thank God you’re okay. I would have done anything he asked while he had that knife to your throat.”

  “You shouldn’t have let him take off with the money, Riley.” She grabbed his hands and brought them to her lips. “Taking their money would have forced them to start over and given you more time to track down leads on Jack.”

  “I still have one lead on Jack.” Riley turned his head and jerked his chin toward the wounded man on the ground.

  “He’s not dead?” When Farzad had crumpled to the ground, his shoulder spouting blood, Amy assumed Riley had killed him. But one dead man had already come back to life. Why not another?

  Riley tugged her hand, and she reluctantly followed him back to the gaping storage unit and the man sprawled on the ground next to it. Riley crouched beside Farzad and ripped off the bottom of the man’s shirt. He bunched it up and pressed it against the wound. Were his last-ditch medical efforts too little too late?

  He lightly slapped the pale face and propped up his head. “Get some water from my bag, which is around the corner from that unit.”

  Riley jerked his thumb over his shoulder and Amy jumped to her feet and ran toward the unit. She scooped up the black bag from the ground and plunged her hand inside for the water.

  She squatted beside Riley and handed him the bottle. He twisted off the cap and splashed a few drops on Farzad’s face. Farzad blinked his eyes and moaned. Riley held the bottle to his lips.

  “His name is Farzad.”

  “You’re going to be okay, Farzad. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  Amy cringed at the lie which brought false hope to a dying man, even though this dying man had held her at gunpoint less than fifteen minutes ago.

  Farzad puckered his lips and drew the water into his mouth. Most of it ran down his chin, and he closed his eyes again. Riley dragged him to the storage unit and propped him up against the side.

  “Tell me what you know about Jack Coburn.”

  The man squeezed his eyes and the corner of his mouth ticked up. He gasped and clutched his shoulder where fresh blood seeped from Riley’s bandage.

  Riley shook him and slapped his face. “Tell me what you know about Coburn.”

  Farzad sucked air into his mouth, and his eyes flew open. “Jack Coburn.”

  “That’s right. Jack Coburn. What do you know about him?”

  Farzad’s breath rattled in his chest, and Amy knew nothing could save him now. Riley leaned in, his ear close to Farzad’s moving lips.

  With a last rasping breath, Farzad slumped, his head falling to the side. Riley checked his pulse and swept his palm over the dead man’s eyes.

  Amy dropped her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, Riley.”

  “Sorry? The man was a brutal killer, perhaps even involved in a plot for mass murder. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  She looked up, drawing her brows over her nose. “Not that. I meant I’m sorry you didn’t get anything out of him before he died.”

  Riley quirked an eyebrow. “Who said I didn’t?”

  “H-he whispered something to you at the end?”

  “Yep.” He pushed to his feet and pulled out his cell phone.

  Amy fell back on her hands, staring up at him while a light breeze lifted his hair from his shoulders. “Well?”

  Riley grinned. “He said Jack escaped.”

  AMY KICKED HER LEGS onto the coffee table and wrapped her hands around her sweating can of soda. She swiveled her head back and forth between Riley and his friend Ian as they discussed the implications of Farzad’s dying words.

  The two men didn’t resemble each other in appearance. Riley’s longish blond mane contrasted with Ian’s dark, short-cropped hair. Riley’s quick grin lit up his blue eyes, while Ian’s slow smile sent a glow to his dark green eyes.

  But energy emanated from both men’s finely tuned and trained bodies. Their jobs since retiring from Prospero—Riley’s running a dive boat and Ian’s leading mountain climbing expeditions—both contained an element of adventure and danger. But the very air around them crackled with intensity as they exchanged ideas about Jack’s situation.

  Ian stretched and rubbed his knuckles across his head. “I had a feeling Farouk and his gang were involved, but the question remains. What exactly did Jack escape from?”

  “And if he escaped—” Riley snapped his fingers “—he’s not some kind of traitor.”

  “Then where is he? If your guy was telling the truth about Jack, why hasn’t he contacted anyone?”

  Riley shook his head. “I don’t know. Follow the money. It’s out of our hands now, but it will soon be in somebody else’s. We need to pick up chatter and see where we’re at.”

  Sipping her soda, Amy drew her brows together. “Where do you guys get this chatter anyway?”

  “Should we tell her?” Riley raised his brows up and down.

  Ian winked. “I don’t know. It’s top secret.”

  “After what I’ve been through? I should be an honorary member of Prospero.”

  Riley dropped on the couch next to her and squeezed her knee. “It’s no mystery. We get chatter through tapped phones, hacked email accounts, undercover agents on the ground and imprisoned terrorists looking to make deals. We use any and all sources.”

  “We’ll hear something soon about this money.” Ian rose from his chair and crushed his empty beer can. “Something will give. Information about a deal this big will slip through somewhere. And I’ll be ready.”

  “You’ll be ready? What about me? What about Buzz?”

  “Buzz, maybe, but you’ve done your part.”

  Riley threaded his fingers thro
ugh Amy’s and pulled her up with him. “Unless the hunt takes us back to the ocean. Then I’m your man.”

  Amy slipped her arm around his waist. “You’re my man.”

  Ian laughed. “And with those well-chosen words, I’m off. Take a break, Riley. We’ll keep you posted.”

  “If Jack’s in any danger, any danger at all, come and get me.”

  Ian pulled Amy from Riley’s arms and kissed her on the cheek. “Keep this guy out of trouble.” Then he flashed a thumbs-up sign to Riley and left.

  Riley tipped Ian’s crushed beer can, which he’d left on the countertop, and sent it rocking back and forth. “If he calls, I have to go, Amy.”

  “I know that.” She wound her arms around his neck.

  He kissed her mouth and she melted against him.

  “And when the danger ends? When we find Jack?” He studied her face, but she had nothing to hide.

  “Even if you never go on another mission for as long as you live, you’re all I need, Riley.”

  Running his hands through her hair, he deepened the kiss. “I need you, too, Amy. But as long as one of my brothers in arms is in trouble, I’ll go through hell and back to help him.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Riley Hammond. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

  Epilogue

  He rolled to his side and jerked back, inches from a twenty-five foot drop. He worked his jaw, grit and sand grinding between his teeth. Dragging himself up to a sitting position, he leaned against the rough surface of a flat rock. His lungs demanded air as he surveyed the mountainous terrain through squinted eyes. A village, or at least a collection of ramshackle buildings, lay in a valley gorge between two peaks.

  His breathing eased and with each deep breath, all the pains in his body came roaring to life. Gasping, he gingerly probed his rib cage. A bruised or broken rib howled in protest at the intrusion.

  He wiped a hand across his face and studied the streaks of blood and dirt on his palm. He ran his tongue around his lips, wincing at the pain in one tender spot, but tasting no blood. One side of his face felt scorched, and he dabbed his fingers along his right cheekbone, following the paths of several scratches across his face.